


The Thing You Think You Cannot

by Rubynye



Category: Star Trek XI
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 02:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nyota changes her mind about changing her mind. Sequel to "No Set Gauge".</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thing You Think You Cannot

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow-up to "[No Set Gauge](http://rubynye.livejournal.com/420897.html)", but I tried to write this so it's not necessary to have read that.

Title: The Thing You Think You Cannot  
Fandom: Star Trek XI  
Rating: PG-13 with warnings.  
Pairing: Spock/Uhura  
Summary: Nyota changes her mind about changing her mind.  
Content Advisory: Nonexplicit references to violence and sexual assault.  
Acknowledgements: [](http://community.livejournal.com/where_no_woman/profile)[**where_no_woman**](http://community.livejournal.com/where_no_woman/); this was originally meant for [a drabblefest](http://community.livejournal.com/where_no_woman/43034.html) there.  
_Disclaimer:_ None of these characters or their settings belong to me.  
Author's Note: This is a follow-up to "[No Set Gauge](http://rubynye.livejournal.com/420897.html)", but I tried to write this so it's not necessary to have read that.

 

_You must do the thing which you think you cannot do._ \-- Eleanor Roosevelt

Spock bends over her, and it feels wrong. At first Nyota pays no particular attention to the increasing effort it takes to keep her spine straight as he leans closer, the way her skin shrinks against her skull as his fingertips approach; very little has felt right these last weeks, ever since the mission on Taranak VI, and she's become used to pushing past the flashes of disorientation, to ignoring sympathetic looks and curious ones, to forcing herself to work and move and breathe inside her ill-fitting skin.

Then she looks up into Spock's space-dark eyes, and remembers what little has felt right: Kirk's handshake, Gaila's hugs, Spock's touch. This shouldn't feel wrong. She throws up a hand, saying, "Stop."

Spock stops, precisely where he is, leaning over Nyota in her chair in his quarters, waiting for her word. She looks into his eyes and searches her thoughts, and understands why this is wrong. "No," she tells him, tells herself, shaking her head once. "No, I've changed my mind. Or, I know it better. I don't -- I need to keep them."

Spock drops into a crouch beside her, his hands curled around the back of her chair and the edge of the seat, a millimeter of eddying air between his fingertips and her skin. He looks up at her, tipping his head into a silent, 'Why?'

Nyota swallows, and breathes, and slips into the language of her mother's earliest lullabies. "_The memories are mine. They show me what I did._."

Likewise, Spock responds in Vulcan burred and accented as a loving Human would pronounce the words. "_They are a record of what was done to you, they resurface in your sleep and trouble your waking mind. I would have you free of them. I thought that was your wish._"

She joins him in Vulcan, because she shares that accent with his mother, sliding her fingertips forward to his as her gaze falls to her knees, her feet, the thinly carpeted floor. "_And so I thought too, until I comprehended... I showed you, but did I tell?_" She looks up at him again, she needs to. "_Did you see the blankness in my mind beforehand?_"

Spock's head tips a centimeter further, his left eyebrow lifts maybe half that. "Nyota," he says in Standard, "Your mind is never empty."

It hurts to smile, which is why she does. "It was when I stepped in front of Gaila." It had been blank but for terror and certainty licking like flame around the edges. "I know... She told me about... she told me enough. I excelled when they trained us to handle torture. But I had no idea... I couldn't imagine." Nyota has heard all her life she is beautiful, since puberty that she is desirable. People have begged and wheedled and attempted to charm her into their hands, her lovers have touched her gently and even gratefully. She couldn't imagine when she stepped forward to put herself between the pirates and Gaila what being forced would feel like, not in any meaningfully tangible sense. She tried to prepare herself and her mind slid away from the thought, dangling over the edge of panic.

But she'd looked back at Gaila, whose mouth was set as if she'd never smiled in her life, whose eyes gleamed wetly with terror and resignation, and knew Gaila knew too well, knew she couldn't let her go through that again. When she saw Nyota step forward Gaila's eyes widened further, round and bright with shocked hope, and thus painfully bolstered Nyota gave her a smile and turned to face the pirates.

Spock trembles minutely, which is how Nyota realizes she's shaking now. Their fingers mesh and her shivering dies away, dampened by his solidity, smoothed by his calm. He is not calm beneath, she knows him well enough, but he has his control and she gratefully grounds herself on it. "These memories cause you anguish." His hand is precisely tight on hers, neither painful nor escapable. "Which I am capable of ameliorating. I will leave them at this time, but my offer remains open."

Nyota feels as if she's speaking from across the galaxy, if even Spock still doesn't understand. "Thank you." But then, in some ways neither does she. Tightening her fingers on his so she feels bone beneath flesh, she inhales, and exhales, and resolves to leave it at that. It's enough to sit here with Spock, having realized she doesn't need a gap in her mind to handle holding his hand. The pirates never held her hands, except to restrain her. They wrapped greasy fingers crushingly around her wrists, they punched her in the mouth when she tried to reason with them and in the belly so she wheezed, they dragged her out of her uniform and tore her under-dress and--

_Stop,_ she thinks in Spock's voice; "Stop," she hears herself say aloud. Spock gathers her hands between his, palm to palm, and she can hear his breathing, and hers, rough and loud.

Five breaths, each one fractionally less harsh than the last, until Spock says, again in Vulcan, "_I request that you reconsider my offer._"

She does, for a lengthy moment, while the memories howl at the back of her mind. She holds Spock's hand, feels him as solid beside her in her mind as in the flesh, feels her next breath, and shakes her head again. "_I do not say I will never accept, but for now I must decline._" Spock says nothing, but he has her see his thoughts shift, like perturbed comets spiralling inwards. Nyota could laugh mirthlessly at that, or snap at him; she pulls her hands away instead, standing alone in her mind when she says in Standard, "I had no real idea what I was getting into, but I did it because it needed to be done. I need to remember that I did. That I can."

She feels Spock's gaze like strong sunlight. When he nods she looks at him, and he offers his hands with a minute shift forward. She lifts hers and they meet again, their minds touching once more as their hands fold around each other. "I believe your courage would persist regardless," Spock tells her, and she smiles and lets him have the last word, feels his chagrined, determined amusement that he knows so. "But I also believe I understand. At least, please allow me to ease your dreams."

"I would like that." Spock stands, and when she stands with him she sways, suddenly exhausted. It's gotten late... it's been late, very late. For weeks and weeks, ever since they returned from Taranak IV. "I would really, really like that."

"Then you shall have it." Spock leads her to his bed, his arm across her back supporting her; he undresses her with reverence, arranging his sheets around her with careful precision, strips himself as if clothes have suddenly become irrelevant, and curls around her as if to shield her from the universe with the unbroken lines of his body and the strength of his mind. Nyota breathes tidally against his breastbone, her head beneath his chin and her hand on his side above his heart; she relaxes into his embrace, into the companionable darkness she sees behind his eyes, into untroubled sleep.


End file.
